Bad Boy Complex
by Cynik
Summary: All humans experience desire and want. But it's a problematic instinct for them to reach for the unreachable. And of this, Jabu is painfully aware, and just as unsatisfied and frustrated. But he sees even the people he longs for could just as easily be victims. Maybe he laughs about it. Oneshot to ease myself.


I can't tell if I love her or hate her.

She sits quietly like a swan rests on a lake. Her dainty features, and how they hold an elegant strength. Her arms are neatly folded, her head turned ever so slightly, just enough to let her eyes peer out the window. I feel an ache shoot through my chest as a small, soft smile appears on her perfect face. She's been quiet for some time. But just some time to admire her as a whole is enough for me. She's indeed a deity- a gift from above, a mortal like me may never have the chance to touch.

She's quietly watching. Waiting, it would seem. I know that look. I know that look too well. And I'm damn glad she can't see my contorted expression right now. It's her own damn fault. She wants the impossible. Goddess or not, she…she can't just…

I hate when she smiles like that. My heart flutters and sighs, and then my fangs unsheathe, and the venom drips. Part of me feels bad for her. She doesn't know what she's gotten herself into. I mean, I want her to be happy, but…what she wants is going to shred her precious little heart. Whatever remains of her faith after all the bloodshed she's seen. And then, naturally, I fall for my own craving of self-indulgence. I feel starved, sickly…

Porcelain, gold, blue, lilac, white. My hands are shaking. My shoulders are tense. If the rock in my stomach gets any bigger, it'll kill me. I'll just tear my throat out on the spot. Thankfully, the carpets are red. Hear that, Miss Saori? You won't have to worry about stains. Just throw my body outside, that's all you'll need to worry about. Maybe a dog will eat my remains or something. Because that's what you want, right? Rather, you could hardly care. Use my hide to make a fancy leather jacket. I'm not even worth that.

I wish you'd stop smiling like that. How childish it is of me, though. It's always about me. What I want. If I don't get what I want, I throw a tantrum. When I want something, I get it. And I want her. No, let me rephrase that. I want her to want _me. _My nails dig into my forehead, and I rock a little bit. Just a little. I apologize, my lady. I'm selfish and impure. I'm not worth your time.

She gently blows away the steam rising from her tea. She takes a little sip. She puts her cup down. I can feel my stomach quivering. My eyes are stinging. Aren't you just divine.

That smile is killing me. It's as though I can read tiny words on her lips, her innocent little daydreams and all. And I'm here, fidgeting so my clothes look neater. So my hair looks tidy. So the fucking bloodstains under my gloves aren't too visible. It's only natural, isn't it?

Am I a dirty fighter, is that it? You want a knight in shining armor, don't you? Radiating light, stepping through stars. And I could've been that for you, I could've been that. I could've held you, protected you, been your rock. But you insist on chasing the wind. Maybe I'm wasting my time. You're like every other girl, you want the impossible. You have those unreachable ideals for the ultimate dream. But well, who the hell am I to talk?

Pardon me, but you're deluding yourself, my lady. You've lost your fucking mind, sweet mistress. I've read between those fine little lines, and your treasure is as corrupt as I am to you. That heart is colder than ice. No time for little dreamboats and honeymoons. That right there, is a broken bastard, angry out of his mind, unwilling to kneel to anyone. You should feel thankful that he even trusts you. You know what they say- if you play with fire, you're gonna get burned. That's not a fucking prince. That's not a goddamn angel. That's a calloused, bitter, sarcastic bastard. Just like me. Pardon, did you have a thing for brunettes? Well, pardon my existence, your royal stuffed shirt.

Her deep, sea-blue eyes are looking at me. Studying me from a distance. I straightened my posture faster than lightning. I smiled at her. It hurt. Her smile was faint, but I saw it. Just a polite little acknowledgement to my openness. I should be thankful. I am. The tension is gonna be the damn end of me, though. I rose from my seat, straightened my shirt with a lazy hand, and lightly cleared my throat.

"It's been wonderful staying here. However, I have some errands I need to attend to. Thank you, and excuse me for interrupting you," I said softly.

"It's fine, Jabu," she answered delicately, gently placing her cup on her plate. "And you're very welcome. Have a good afternoon."

"Thank you. You too."

My leave was silent and steady. Road outside, though? Forget it. I threw my hand up, and violently clutched my forehead, nails digging in deep enough to hurt. The concoction of emotions she makes me feel, I swear to god. It's enough for me to want to kill someone. Make them eat the dirt I've eaten my whole life.

I just want her to be okay. Who cares if I'm being selfish, it's for her own damn safety. She may be close to her saints, but I know him better than she ever will. And he's a lot like me. Too much. 'cept Seiya can actually fucking function without spitting venom at anyone who one-ups him. But he doesn't care, that's the thing. He's gone beyond human, he sits in a stormy lighthouse on top of the world and laughs at the stupidity that is human existence. That's why he's always so happy. Because it's all meaningless and hollow to him, he sees beyond the illusion. Love included. She's wondering into unwelcoming territory.

But I would be good for her. I'd be the best. I always have been. I'm tidy for her, clean for her, neat for her, polite for her, what else do I have to do?! I hide my rugged side, I wipe it out of existence every time I see her. And him? He doesn't worry about impressing people. He doesn't need them in his life. She's just another human to him. Maybe she knows he's being real. But it's almost insulting to think that she thinks all my goddamn efforts are flimsy little masks put on for her.

Ah, but of course. How could I not know this, being who I am?

Girls always want bad boys. The untouchable.


End file.
